


Land Of Confusion

by insanechayne



Category: House of Leaves - Mark Z. Danielewski, Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Crossover, F/M, Gen, Hinted Caryl, Maybe I should make this a series or something, Maybe eventual Caryl, Probably someone dying, Short-chapter fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-11-25
Updated: 2013-12-05
Packaged: 2018-01-02 16:02:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1058783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/insanechayne/pseuds/insanechayne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>//Reading House of Leaves is not necessary to read this story.//</p><p>SPOILER ALERT FOR SEASON 4</p><p>After being kicked out of the group, Carol decides to spend the night in the house on Ash Tree Lane. It turns out to be the biggest mistake of her life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Picture Perfect

**Author's Note:**

> Alright so I've had this idea floating around in my mind for a couple days now, so I decided to get it out.   
> Like I said, you don't really need to know anything about House of Leaves to read this story, because I make everything pretty self explanatory.   
> Caryl is certainly hinted at, though whether or not we'll be seeing it happen is to be decided later.   
> Same thing goes for someone dying. I really want to kill someone, but I have an ending planned for either outcome (death or no death) so we'll just see how it goes.   
> And to let everyone know this is going to be a short-chapter fic, which means it probably won't go past 5 chapters. I was just going to make it a really long one-shot, but that would require a lot more work and condensation and I just want to take my time on this one. 
> 
> Anyway, please enjoy my work.

Carol spreads a blanket down on the near-new wood floor of the living room in the house she has decided to stay in for the night. The house is nice, cozy, a two-story meant for a family of four and their beloved pets to make a life in; the epitome of the American dream. This is the kind of house Carol had always wanted, and maybe that’s why she had decided to camp here for the night.

Often times in the past she would dream about a house just like this, one with a white exterior and soft red trim, the front door a vibrant scarlet to ensure passion and luck, every room a different color. She always pictured Sophia’s room in lavender rather than pink, maybe even baby blue like the child’s eyes; her own room she would want in dandelion yellow, something that matched the sunlight and reflected it back, that made the space seem open and warm and inviting.

She thinks about these things now as she settles down for the night, because she can’t bear to think about why she is here in the first place. In her mind’s eye she is with Sophia and Daryl, a dog running around the backyard after a ball, a cat perched on the window sill she can still see from where she lays on the floor. Sophia is working on homework at the kitchen table, eating a peanut butter and strawberry jelly sandwich, maybe toying with a lock of hair. Daryl is in the garage, working on his bike, maybe checking on the family car while he’s out there. And she is sitting on the sofa in the living room, a glass of iced tea cupped between her palms as she flips through the TV channels aimlessly, paying more attention to the cat and shining light of the sun outside than to the television.

In Carol’s imagination she is married to Daryl, not Ed, because over the course of their time together she has come to love him more than she has ever loved anyone else, aside from Sophia. Ed was a monster, was someone not even worthy of the title of “man”, but Daryl is an angel, a hero, a man of honor and valor and virtue; and the fact that he’s devilishly handsome is just a bonus. She misses him more than anyone else back at that prison, misses him so much a dull ache has begun to grow in her chest and she must clutch at her torso and curl in on herself to keep the tears and the pain at bay.

Her head slips off of its perch on her pack, thudding dully against the floor, and that somehow snaps her back to reality, back to the gravity of her situation. She blinks open her eyes and scans what she can easily see from her position. Darkness is all that greets her, along with the moon’s gentle white light filtering in from the windows. However, the light of the moon isn’t much to see by, and she is stuck grasping at shadows.

She turns onto her back, trying to spread out, and vaguely wonders why she didn’t just sleep on the couch or in the beds upstairs. She thinks it has something to do with not wanting to ruin the pristine mirage this house has presented, the fantasy it is allowing her to wallow in. But her back is sore, and her head needs a real pillow, so she gathers up her things and clumsily makes her way up the stairs to the master bedroom.

The bed is a little dusty, and she opts to cover it with her own large blanket, but its cushiness is the best thing she’s felt against her body in a long time. She quickly falls asleep, sinking deeper into the mattress with every slow and steady breath.

In her dreams she sees the same scene that her imagination had created, but now it is allowed to fully play out.

_Daryl comes in from the garage, wiping his hands on a spare rag, his hair falling into his face. Every time he walks into a room he takes Carol’s breath away, even though she has seen him a hundred times before this; now is no exception, and she nearly leaps up from the couch and runs to his side. She calms herself, forces herself to behave normally, and lithely walks over to him._

_“How’s the bike?” She asks, reaching up with her free hand to brush his bangs out of his eyes._

_Daryl smiles at her touch, damn near leaning into it now that he is so used to it, used to her, used to them being together. “Still kickin’, just like always.”_

_There is nothing left to say, but they are not uncomfortable with the silence. They stand there a moment, simply staring at each other like they’re the ninth and tenth wonders of the world, their eyes locked in their own silent communication that needs no words or sounds to still be understood._

_And then Carol pushes up on her toes and lightly presses her lips to Daryl’s. He responds immediately, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her close as he parts his lips. He presses back against her, in every way possible, and their mouths mold together, one fluid being born of love and adoration and maybe just a little bit of lust._

_“Ew, guys, do that somewhere else!” Sophia’s playful, high-pitched squeal breaks the couple apart, both of them laughing at her distaste for their displays of affection._

_Daryl walks over and ruffles her hair. “Sorry ‘bout that, kiddo.”_

_“How about you go finish your homework in your room, sweetie? I want to talk to Daryl about something.” Carol places a kind hand on her daughter’s shoulder, gives her a smile, and the child obeys without complaint._

_As soon as Sophia’s bedroom door closes the couple move together again, slowly undoing buttons and removing clothes and kissing each other tenderly. Carol sighs and Daryl groans, and before long those sounds turn into quiet whimpers and muffled moans and murmured words of love._

Carol wakes in the morning with tear-filled eyes and a small smile on her face, glad that she could dream of something so beautiful, depressed because it will never be real.


	2. Anywhere But Here

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so there's going to be a shit-ton of canon divergence here. I'm pretending the mid-season finale doesn't exist, save for the part where Rick tells Daryl he kicked Carol out. Speaking of, sorry if the lines aren't exactly correct there; I couldn't remember all of them. 
> 
> Also, the chapter title doesn't fit very well. It sounded better in my head, to be honest.
> 
> Anyway, enjoy.

Carol stretches, her joints popping into place, and wipes the tears from the corners of her eyes. She is a stronger woman now, one who should not be crying over shattered dreams, and she shakes her head at her earlier foolishness.

She knew better than to go and fantasize about a perfect life that she could never, would never, have, but she did it anyway and now she was paying the price. But at least the ache spreading through her chest was a sign that she was still alive, though she no longer thinks of that as a good thing, not anymore.

She sighs as she packs up her blanket, slinging the bag over her shoulder. She can’t stay here any longer, because though the house is beautiful it isn’t secure. The only fencing around the place is in the backyard, made entirely of bush, and no doubt she will attract walkers to the house if she makes it a more permanent camp. She’s fought too long and too hard to be so stupid now, when it really counts.

Carol makes her way down the stairs and turns toward the windows that face the backyard, hoping to take one last look at the spacious area before she goes, and freezes where she stands. Between the two large windows stands a door thrown halfway ajar to reveal a pitch black opening; her eyes can’t fully penetrate that kind of deep darkness, but she believes the opening is a hallway.

She stands in the middle of the living room area for several minutes, her whole body feeling like stone, unable to move either toward that door or away from it. She simply stares at the door, at the darkness beyond it, as if she has been hypnotized by it. And in a way she has been hypnotized; she can feel some otherworldly force pushing her toward that entryway, prodding her to enter, and though she knows it would be a mistake, though she knows she should turn and run in the other direction, she feels her legs slowly moving her toward the darkness.

Once in front of the entryway she freezes once more, common sense pushing into her mind.

 _This should not be here._ She thinks to herself, biting her lip as she stares into the black abyss before her. _This wasn’t here last night. I know, because I checked this place from top to bottom before spending the night. If this had been here I wouldn’t have been. But it’s here now, and I don’t know why, I don’t want to know why. But, dammit, I have to._

Carol takes a deep breath, steeling her resolve, and without fully realizing what she is about to do, steps into the shadows.

~ ~ ~

“You couldn’t have waited ‘til we got back?!” Daryl spits his words at Rick, swinging a hand up in meaningless frustration.

“Til Tyreese got back?” Rick calmly answers.

“Hell, I coulda taken care a’ that.” Daryl shakes his head and moves to lean against the railing, placing his arms on top of the bars and then hanging his head down over them.

Physically, Daryl is fine. He’s a little sore, a little tired, from the run he just got back from, but he has no other complaints, and a little soreness has always been the least of his worries. Emotionally, though, that’s a whole other story. His mind is a raging torrent of thoughts, a tornado of words that he wants very much to shout at Rick battering against his skull. But he stays quiet, processing everything that Rick is saying in his own way. He’s beyond angry with Rick; he’s somewhere closer to furious, actually. But there’s nothing he could say or do to change the situation, and if he laid a hand on Rick the whole rest of the group would probably mark him as the crazy redneck again, just like they did back in Atlanta, and then all the progress he’s made over this long, horrible year, will be for nothing. So he just rests his head on his arms and closes his eyes, praying that his self-control stays in check.

“Hey, she’s gonna be fine. She’s got food, water, blankets, supplies, a car. She’s gonna survive.” Rick steps forward slightly, thinking momentarily about laying a hand on the other man’s shoulder to see if that will calm him.

But then Daryl’s arm is flying up again in that same pointless gesture, as if by swinging his arm at Rick and the air, the way he would at an insect, it can make the whole thing disappear and go back to normal. He points a finger at Rick’s face, his gaze burning with intensity. “Stop sayin’ that like you don’t believe it!”

And damn if Rick doesn’t feel like shit right now, because Daryl’s eyes have a watery sheen that Rick has seen only one other time. It is the same sheen they glazed over with on that rooftop in Atlanta when they found Merle’s hand, but no Merle. Daryl had broken down into sobs and screams of “No!” then, but he doesn’t now; he just turns his back to Rick and paces a little ways down the corridor, then turns around and comes back again.

Rick backs up a step before he says what he does next. “She murdered two people. She said it was for us. She wasn’t sorry.”

Daryl is only a few feet away from Rick, and he closes that gap with one lithe step, bringing them just inches apart. His jaw clenches for a moment before he speaks, that same fire raging in his eyes seeming to burn even hotter. “That ain’t her.” It’s all he says, and all he needs to say.

Rick doesn’t say anything else, and neither does Daryl. They simply stare at each other for a few moments, Rick trying to remain calm, Daryl trying to intimidate in his own way. And then Daryl brushes past Rick and begins to make his way down the stairs.

“Where are you going?” Rick asks, trying hard to keep the waver out of his voice.

“To find Carol and bring her back.”

**Author's Note:**

> I don't usually like crossovers, and I know not a lot of others do, either, but if you're reading this then I would like to thank you from the bottom of my heart because it really means a lot to me.   
> Comments are welcome and encouraged.   
> Kudos would be delightful.


End file.
